“When you said to yourself, then, ‘I never will love that young lady.’”
“I didn’t say that, either.”
“Then was it, ‘I suppose I must love that young lady?’”
“No.”
“What, then?”
“’Twas much more fluctuating—not so definite.”
“Tell me; do, do.”
“It was that I ought not to think about you if I loved you truly.”
“Ah, that I don’t understand. There’s no getting it out of you. And I’ll not ask you ever any more—never more—to say out of the deep reality of your heart what you loved me for.”
“Sweet tantalizer, what’s the use? It comes to this sole simple thing: That at one time I had never seen you, and I didn’t love you; that then I saw you, and I did love you. Is that enough?”